


Do Unto Others

by acididal



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Canon, Blood and Violence, Brutal Murder, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Choking, Complete, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Face Slapping, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Laughing Gas, Major Character Injury, Murder, Non-Canonical Character Death, Not Beta Read, POV Third Person, Parental Abuse, Physical Abuse, Pre-Canon, Slapping, Sorry Not Sorry, Swearing, To Be Edited, Trauma, Verbal Abuse, Violence, Violence against Children, Whump, Wordcount: 500-1.000, boris kills a man that's it, i guess, mr. habit has lost his life privileges, suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24908473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acididal/pseuds/acididal
Summary: Boris has decided that he has had enough of his father. And he has an idea on how to get rid of him. Permanently.
Relationships: Dr. Boris Habit & Mr. Habit
Kudos: 15





	Do Unto Others

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title is meant to be ironic.

"Boris!" Mr. Habit roared. He stomped his foot onto the dark carpet. He balled his hands up into fists as he clenched his jaw. "Come down here right now!" He hissed. He glared daggers up at the bedroom door. There was no response from Boris, however. The silence continued to linger with each second making him all the more _angrier_.

Mr. Habit stormed up the stairs. His footsteps thundered with each step as he got closer to the door. He huffed as his fists shook with rage. Every inch of his body shook with anger. Boris wasn't responding to him. Why wasn't he responding?

_Why?_

What the hell could he be doing?

Mr. Habit stopped in front of the wooden door. He glared at it with murderous intent. He hit the door with his fist causing a loud bang. "Boris, open the goddamn door right now!" He roared. He hit the door again, causing another bang. He continued to pound against the door. His hands began to bruise and bleed from the wood. Small splinters pierced into his flesh. Blood dripped from his knuckles. His tender bruises only grew more with each impact.

But he didn't care. He didn't care _at all_.

Mr. Habit continued to pound on the door. "Boris open the fucking door or else you'll get it _worse_ than the belt!" He roared. He banged his forehead against the wood. He hissed at the sharp pain that burst through his head, like a bullet to the brain. He rubbed his throbbing forehead with his bloody knuckles. Blood leaked onto his forehead as he attempted to soothe the pain. He glared at the door, his eyes full of fury. He huffed as he clenched his fists tighter.

The door slowly creaked open. "Fucking finally!" Mr. Habit roared as he saw Boris come into view. The small boy looked up at him. His face was emotionless and unmoving. A frown stretched across his lips. His hands retreated behind him his back.

Mr. Habit tilted his head. "Boris," He replied with a dark tone. " _what are you hiding?_ " 

Boris pulled out a small bottle from behind his back. Covering the bottle was a spray top. It was a faded blue in contrast to the pastel teal liquid inside. Mr. Habit tilted his head in response.

"Boris, what _is_ that?" His father snapped.

Boris raised up the bottle to his father's face. He gave the nozzle a tight squeeze. Air puffed out of the bottle and blew into Mr. Habit's face. His hands flew to his face as he breathed the gas in. The gas had a metallic scent to it. Mr. Habit coughed hoarsely.

"Boris! What the _fuck_ was that?" Mr. Habit roared. He raised his hand and slapped him hard across his cheek. The slap left a bright, red handprint on his face. Tears formed in the corner of his eyes. He tried to blink them back, not wanting his father to see him in such a state.

Boris sprayed at his face again. Mr. Habit swatted at the air to get the gas away from him. He coughed once again before, a chuckle rose from his throat. His frown turned into an ear to ear grin. Boris looked up at him as he erupted into laughter.

"You're so fucking pathetic, Boris!" Mr. Habit howled. He raised his hand again and delivered another slap to his face. Boris gasped. He jumped back, raising the bottle up towards him. He gave the nozzle another squeeze. More gas blew into Mr. Habit's face. He coughed through laughter.

"Bor..Boris!" Mr. Habit wheezed. He fell onto his knees as he continued to laugh. Boris stared at his father in horror before, his expression changed. He raised the bottle over his head and smashed it onto his father's head. The bottle shattered upon impact, spreading glass shards everywhere.

The liquid smeared across Mr. Habit's dark hair. Small cuts opened on his head from the glass. Warm blood mixed with the concoction. His cuts began to burn like fire. However, he continued to laugh and showed no signs of stopping. He looked up at Boris, his eyes wet from laughing. "S-Son!" He wheezed. He extended a hand out to him. Boris scowled at him in response. 

"I am _not_ your son." Boris hissed. "And you will _never_ be my father." 

Mr. Habit's eyes widened. His arm fell down along with his body. It became limp and unmoving. Boris walked past it with a slight smile.

_Good riddance._

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea of "what if Boris used his gas on his father as his first test subject?"


End file.
